


he’s my daredevil halo tonight

by princess_of_the_darkness



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, Love Notes, M/M, Pining Through Poetry?, Poetry, Sam is a melodramatic softboy and we love him for that, Sibling Incest, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 13:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20836256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princess_of_the_darkness/pseuds/princess_of_the_darkness
Summary: Sam loves his big brother too much to keep it all contained in his chest. So he writes it down.Dean can’t say he minds.





	he’s my daredevil halo tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a modified line from BØRNS’ song We Don’t Care which is a great Wincest song if you ask me. 
> 
> Either Dean is 18 in this or the ages don’t properly fit with the show, that’s up to you.

Dean finds a love note in the pocket of his favorite leather jacket. It’s just a little piece of paper, rolled up and tucked inside, its color this weird shade of grayish white that you only get with recycled paper. It’s a little frayed and dirty at the edges.

Dean thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

_Does this feeling ever go away?_  
_Every look at you is magic flowing through my veins_  
_ All i dream of are your lips_  
_ Nothing feels as real as this_

_ __ _

_What can i do to catch your eye? _  
_I can’t take this so much longer_  
_ Never have i felt this shy,_  
_ Caught beneath your gaze, so somber_  
_ Have you ever looked at me?_  
_ Even in my mind you’re distant;_  
_ Strong, untouchable, aloof_  
_ This is all that i can do_  
_ Every piece of me in yearning_  
_ Rattled by the thought of you_

_Only watching you, i fell, _  
_Was captured by the sight of this_  
_ Now i got secrets i’ll never tell_  
_ So i can only hope for true love’s kiss_

It makes his heart pound for something he’s never known he wanted, makes his cheeks go all pink and hot and achy from smiling all day whenever he’s got a second to himself.

Dean knows jack about poetry but even he can tell that this is some serious stuff, it’s got question marks and semi-colons and all that. Something flutters deep inside his stomach at the thought of someone out there spending hours trying to find the right words for him.

This someone has to be _so_ into him, he thinks. Not just _giggly whenever Dean slanders into class ten minutes late_ into him or _throwing heart-eyes at him across the hallway_ into him or even _making out in empty movie theaters_ into him.

This is love, as gut-wrenching and seizure-inducing and bone-crushing as it comes.

Dean falls asleep with a grin. He can’t wait to see what happens next.

-

Dean uses his favorite switchblade to scratch a list of names into his desk when the second poem shows up. It sits in the pencil case that Sam had insisted on getting him for his 17th birthday.

He doesn’t actually write anything down except phone numbers, but sometimes it’s fun to pretend to care about school like Sam does. Sam’s too smart for his own good, and one day he’s gonna be too smart to humor Dean any longer.

He’d never admit it but he loves every one of his baby brother’s gifts, cherishes them like they’re worth more than the couple of bucks Sammy scraped together to afford them. Because, to him, they mean the world.

_My god,  
You’re so fucking _

_Pretty _  
_It just hurts_  
_ No one can show me how to break this curse_  
_ Kaleidoscope dreams filled with blood-soaked confetti_

_Last night, i cried myself to sleep _  
_I couldn’t stop thinking about your eyes,_  
_ The freckles on your sun-kissed skin;_  
_ Those lips of yours were made to sin_  
_ Like devil’s tears, like pools of blood,_  
_ Every time i sink too deep_

Thing is, no one’s ever called Dean _pretty_ before. He’s had girls gushing over his handsome face and his sexy biceps, his strong hands, his panty-dropper grin, his deep voice and sharp jaw, Dean has heard all the compliments there are for a guy like him. Or so he thought.

Thing is, rereading the poem after school gives him chills like he’s been leaning into the motel room fridge for too long. Maybe this isn’t love, after all. Maybe this is darker, twisted, maybe this is obsession, scalding and unforgiving. It’s the same feeling he gets when he and Dad discover a strange news report, it’s anticipation laced with worry, bittersweet all the way through.

Thing is, Dean isn’t as stupid as everyone thinks. He’d recognize his brother’s handwriting everywhere.

-

Sam’s been growing his hair out and Dean can’t stop staring. It’s not that he looks like a girl, far from it, he just looks softer than he has any right to be.

Dean thinks it’s at the perfect length to bury his hands in there.

_Heaven knows i’m not a saint _  
_Even my prayers are full of heresy_  
_ All i need is your forgiveness_  
_ Religion comes from what you say_  
_ That’s my salvation anyway_

_All i want from this is danger _  
_Nitroglycerin explodes behind my eyes_  
_ Dean dean dean dean dean, i’ll take you by surprise_

_Hell has reserved our seats already  
Every demon knows our names_

Dean feels warmer than he has in a long time. He’s got tingles all over his body, imagining Sammy scribbling this crap into his cheap diary (that Dean got him, _of fucking course_) on the tiny motel bed he’s starting to outgrow. Jesus, the boy’s about to turn fourteen and he’s writing like this? He knows he’s gotta put an end to this, has to tell his brother to stop pining after something that’s so. so. so. wrong.

But Dean knows he’s not going to. There’s no way he could. Not when it gives him a high like nothing else ever has.

-

Dean wishes he could feel disgusted. Could build up nausea instead of a boner, would throw up at this instead of jerking off. But Sam, sweet baby Sammy, the only pure thing his family’s got left, he just has a way with words. And Dean’s never been able to resist his smart mouth.

_Kerosene drips from your lips _  
_No saliva left when i’m done with you_  
_ Oh, i_  
_ Want to slice into your tender heart, _  
_Switch out the pieces with my own_

_I want to rip out your lungs and let you breathe through mine  
Tell me, please, you’ll let me try _

It’s clear now that he’s waiting to be found out, why else would he continue this game after they’ve already moved on to the next shitty motel in the next stupid town that has the next monster problem Dad’s taking care of. Dean doesn’t know how to deal with this, there’s no instruction manual on what to do when you find out your brother’s in love with you (and if there were, he knows he wouldn’t read it anyway) but he can’t deny being pulled in, like a magnet is tapping at the walls of his heart.

-

Dad leaves early in the morning for a hunt on a Saturday. Dean feels the stars aligning, knows he has to take this chance or the universe won’t offer him a second one. He gets bagels for the two of them, makes sure Sam’s are slathered in more cream cheese than a bagel should be allowed to have, and brings him breakfast in bed. Sam’s grin is blinding, made of sunshine and Dean has to look away.

He waits until Sam takes the first bite, then he says, “I know.”

Sam hums around his bagel, flutters his eyelashes at Dean while he swallows. “Do you now?”

Dean nods, all sweaty hands, and sick feeling in his stomach. There’s no way he’s gonna eat his share of breakfast. Sam finishes the rest before he speaks again.

“What’s the secret phrase?” he whispers, pseudo-shy and real life-pretty.

Dean reaches out and tucks one of those baby soft strands of too long hair behind Sammy’s ear. He swallows when Sam leans into the touch, the sound feels as loud as the first time Dad took him to a shooting range.

“Dean Winchester owns your pink little heart and he knows it.”

Sam stares with red cheeks and some cream cheese clinging to his bottom lip. “_Ding ding ding_,” he says so soft it’s almost inaudible, and licks at the spot. “He does, right?”

Dean kisses him before pushing “yeah, you betcha little ass he does” right into his mouth.

Sam tastes like everything he’s ever wanted, like what none of the girls ever offered him. He tastes like absolution and like a sinner’s paradise, like the boy he is and the man he will become, like summer rain smells and like a blowjob feels. Dean’s toes start curling when Sammy licks at the roof of his mouth, tongue struggling to crawl deeper into his big brother’s body.

Dean fucks him so hard, their motel room neighbors start hitting the wall in return. It doesn’t matter, none of it does, now that they’ve got each other like this.

They fall asleep with their skin sticking to each other, cum all over the bed, Sam’s mouth pressed against Dean’s belly. The last thing he hears before he drifts off is a whispered “never let me go”, and Dean swears to a god he’s never believed in that he won’t. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading !! I feel like I’m always writing something with poetry in it but I’m a slut for poems so it’s hard not to make them a part of my stories, lol, I hope you liked this !!
> 
> I guess I’m going to hell anyway so I might as well go knowing my work was appreciated, so pls leave some kudos and/or comments if you enjoyed this :)


End file.
